


Anonymous: Here Be Dragons

by Davechicken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anonymous promptfill, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is transfixed by Crowley's tattoos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anonymous: Here Be Dragons

Crowley had his hands on Cas' hips, feeling them flex as the angel in his lap rolled like a wave. His knees pinned the demon down to the couch, flush against hips, and when Cas surged back down again Crowley's straining dick was pushed lower by those tight, perfect little ass-cheeks. He kept trying to move his hands down - trying to grab hold of those firm buttocks and squeeze or pinch at the beautiful, warm skin - kept trying to prise them open and guide the angel down onto his leaking, furiously hard dick - but every time he moved his hands lower than his waist Cas would tut at him, slap his fingers, or push up and away. Fine. Crowley got the picture. Cas wanted to be in control right now, and he was just going to have to let him.

Instead, he had to sit and feel the weight of his angel bearing down on him, feel the not-enough-friction between them, and feel the clumsy stab of Cas' dick as it prodded against his belly with the constant goddamn _writhing_.

"Cas... c'mon... angel don't be a cocktease..."

"I'm not..." Cas said. "You're a demon. You're in no hurry. Calm down."

"Just because I'm a demon doesn't mean I don't have needs."

"You're banned from talking until you cut back on the double-negatives," Cas said, placing his palms flat on Crowley's chest and using his thighs to perform a particularly slow, languid rub that had Crowley's leg hammering the floor.

"CAS!"

But Cas was immovable and his attentions wandered to the inked pictures that decorated the demon's upper body. His fingers spread and ghosted along the lines where pinprick quills had carved indelible scales, claws and feathers over the body he inhabited. Bright, vibrant serpents that covered him like a map: _here be dragons_. The angel bent to kiss one, then let his tongue against heated flesh to draw over it anew.

Crowley's hands slid up - into the small of his back - and he tried to urge him on from there. 

"Why these?" Cas asked, lifting his head and licking the trails of saliva from around his lips with a tongue that looked strawberry-ripe.

"Those? Huh... just... came as part of the package. You know. Fixtures and fittings."

"I like them," Cas said, and he dragged up over one of the dragon's spines with his fingernail, making the muscle beneath tense and ripple the unreal body. "It looks like they should have a story."

"Well... they don't."

"I'm going to give them one," Cas insisted, and bent to kiss the first on the lips. "This is **Boreas** , the North Wind," he said, and smiled down at it. "He's the voracious one. He likes it best when your mouth is full of me, and you suck me like a whirlpool, devouring and destroying..."

Crowley's mouth went dry. He did like the taste of his angel. Liked it a lot. Loved the noises he would make when Crowley could only grunt in response, loved the taste of salt on heaven, the way he could feel the muscles in Cas' thighs tense just before he poured down his throat.

"The next," Cas said, with a kiss to his forearm, "is **Notus** , the South Wind. He likes it when you push your fingers in me and rub me raw, when you make me shudder even without putting your cock inside me..."

More than a few times Cas had come like that, riding his hand helplessly lost, hands grabbing the bedsheets, tearing them from around the mattress as he writhed... or knotted in his own feathers as he humped himself to completion and spilt all over his belly for Crowley to lick him clean. 

Crowley was having a hard time concentrating, now, and he let out an undignified little whimper.

"This one," said Cas, kissing his left arm, "is **Eurus** , the East Wind. He likes it when you wrap your hand around me and drag every last drop from me, making the floor sticky..."

Yep. That too. Crowley just loved to make Cas come. He loved the sounds he made, loved the way colour flushed his cheeks, loved the way his pupils dilated, loved the way the _angel_ inside of him seemed to flare and threaten to block out the sun with its radiance. Crowley loved making Cas come more than anything.

"And the last one," with the kiss to his left breast, close to his heart, "is **Zephyrus** , the West Wind. He likes it best when we've already finished and you touch me anyway. When we've already screamed and you kiss me, and you're softening inside me but you still can't keep your hands off me..."

"Cas..." 

The angel put a finger to his lips, shaking his head.

Crowley made a frustrated noise, his eyes begging. He did love that. He loved the slackness in Cas' limbs and he loved touching each and every part of him with fingers or lips; loved showing him it wasn't just for the heady climax that he wanted him. That he loved the hazy afterglow, too. The moments when the pressure was gone and it was just the two of them, lost in one another. Always lost. Always found.

Cas moved, a hand on his shaft, holding himself still. He'd not used anything to ready himself, but he didn't need to, either. The angel in his lap was slick and ready, and Crowley's head fell back in rapture as he lowered himself down. Tight, perfect heat. Cas settled and waited, his body warming around him and settling into place like it was meant to be. It was meant to be. Nothing should feel this good without it being right.

Crowley looked up at Cas, dazed and hungry, and the angel wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

"And this one's Castiel," he murmured. "Angel of Thursday and Crowley. And he loves it when you do anything to him."

The demon grabbed the angel by the ass, and this time he wasn't slapped back down again. He pulled him up, pushed him down, bit his lip and swore under his breath.

Cas was going to be the death of him. But it was going to be the good kind of death.


End file.
